


Last Day on Earth

by legolastariel



Series: Days trilogy [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolastariel/pseuds/legolastariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>How did it ever come to this? How could I ever let this happen? At what point did my self-confidence turn into arrogance? What have I done?!</i> </p><p>Rick is musing on the events that led up to Negan's line-up and what this means to him and his group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Day on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> I know, some of you lovely peeps don't like 1st person POV, but personally I think, there's no better way to depict just what a person thinks and feels. So, sorry, this is 1st person POV.
> 
> This story takes the line-up a step further and reveals my theory on who will get killed by Negan and how this infects Rick. It's a prequel to a longer (not 1st person POV xD) story, which I'll post later. Its title is FIRST DAY. 
> 
> Bear with me, please. My mother tongue is not English and I don't have a beta, so there are probably errors. Feedback is most welcome! Thanks for taking the time to read!

**Last day on Earth**

 

How did it ever come to this? How could I ever let this happen? At what point did my self-confidence turn into arrogance? What have I done?!  
What good are 24-hour-sentries and training people to fight against any enemy that should knock at your door, if you never really expect anyone to dare? If you underestimated the threat out there, simply because after winning a number of battles you thought _losing_ one was not an option at all.

This is on me. I took the best fighters we have with me on this suicide mission, including my own teenage son, and left the protection of Alexandria, of my little innocent baby-girl, of our _home_ , to the newly trained inhabitants, who for the most part haven’t even seen a walker at close range, let alone killed a living being. And why would I have done such an entirely stupid thing? Because I never thought there would be an actual threat. The wall is high, the gate well protected and there wasn’t an enemy born yet able to win against Rick Grimes and his mighty group, right? 

I knew the Saviors were out here. I knew there were more of them than just the few we assaulted and killed the other day. But, hey, that was an easily won battle, so how could a couple more of those guys be of any danger?

And then we were stopped. The road was blocked and the first group dared face us. _Me_. The further we went, the more groups we met, the more traps we encountered, the more it dawned on me – this time _I_ was screwing with the wrong people. This time there was no way to run, no way out. They had closed in on us, came from all directions. They always were one step ahead, were pushing us forward to where they wanted us, while at the same time blocking our way back. They clearly stood head and shoulders above us and they were many. Far more than we were and they could have killed us countless times before it even came to _this_. 

I could say I was well aware of the threat and took Carl, Sasha, Abraham, Eugene and Aaron with me to protect Maggie, while we took her to the doctor in Hilltop. In fact though, all of _them_ acknowledged the danger and volunteered to help, while I smiled to myself and humored them, not expecting to really need them there at all. 

And as for the other four – I could say it was all Daryl’s fault. If he hadn’t left head over heels, without thinking, without minding that someone might follow him and be in danger as well, none of this would have happened. It was his thoughtless action that put Michonne, Glenn and Rosita in this life-threatening situation. I _could_ say that, but I’m way past that way of thinking. 

When one road after the other was blocked and the situation became tighter and tighter, I knew I’ve made a fatal mistake. I thought winning one or two battles meant having won the war, but in fact it was me who even started this war. It’s like Morgan said – I caused this landslide, I provoked this storm and whatever is going to happen next is entirely on me. 

They are all here. My family, the people I care for more than anything, and Negan has started to walk up and down the line-up, pushing his precious Lucille into each and every one of the faces I’ve come to love. 

Each time he stops my stomach cramps up painfully and I can’t help shaking like aspen leaf. I don’t fear for myself – if he pulls me out, the punishment is well deserved. I caused all this. I got all of them into this situation. Whoever is going to die, their death will be on my conscience.

I start to understand how Daryl must have felt after Denise’s death. And yet, maybe I only have a hunch of what he was actually going through. I know he is blaming himself for her death, but I dismissed that, because in fact there hasn’t been a thing he could have done. We don’t quite agree whether or not finding more people was a good idea, but when he tried to helped Dwight and gave him the benefit of a doubt, he did _right_. He had no way of knowing back then that Dwight would take up Negan’s side again, would kill Denise, would be part of all _this_. At the time something about what the man had said or done, must have convinced Daryl that he was worth saving. Daryl doesn’t trust easily, so this must have been a big step for him – and then he was betrayed. I never gave it much thought how hurt and disappointed he must have been. And then the very same person killed someone Daryl truly cared for with the crossbow he stole from him.  
How could I not see that this must have touched him to the quick? Because I didn’t take the time to even look. That’s why. How could I possibly blame him, when in fact it is all my fault?  
I should have been there! He needed me. He was hurting, he was devastated and at the same time furious. And I wasn’t there. I let him down. I left him alone with his misery, confusion and rage, when he needed someone to support him and show him the way for a change. How could any of this be his fault?

How could a simple task like taking Maggie to the doctor’s go so totally wrong? When we couldn’t get to Hilltop on any road, Eugene’s plan seemed to be the perfect solution. He was going to lure them away with the RV, while the rest of us carried Maggie the rest of the way on foot. They must have watched us the entire time. They are everywhere. I have never before underestimate a situation, an enemy, as profoundly as this one.  
I knew things didn’t look good for the little group that was there with me when we ran straight into their trap, but in the back of my mind I was hoping for the cavalry to show up at any moment. Daryl was still out there. Carol was, too. And Michonne, Glenn and Rosita. Against all odds, Daryl had always been there right in time to save me, and Carol had saved us altogether in Terminus. It was a flicker of hope that some way, somehow either one of them would get us out of this. A fool’s hope, of course.  
When Negan told Dwight to _go get the others_ , I knew it was futile to wait for the cavalry, for obviously they had caught them, too. When they opened the back of that van, Daryl was the first one to leave it and the second I saw him, it felt as though someone had punched me in the guts. Vaguely I noticed Michonne, Glenn and Rosita to be there, too, and I would have though Michonne to be my No. 1 concern, but in fact I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Daryl.  
My God, what have they done to him? He’s covered with blood, pale as a ghost and although someone wrapped a blanket around him he still seems to be shivering. Is he injured? Was he bitten?  
I still don’t know. I can’t see clearly what is wrong with him and I can’t ask, either.  
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat.  
He looked at me, only for a short moment, before he turned away, but that quick glance was enough for me to see all his pain, his despair and lost hope and the fear for me to blame him. Blame him for doing what he did and thereby endangering Michonne, Glenn and Rosita as well. This is what he expects of me these days – to worry about Michonne, to put the blame on him if anything was to happen to her, to not care about _him_ in the least.  
I can’t help the stinging sensation in my eyes. Probably worse than the entire disaster we are in and the fear of him being seriously injured is to see the totally empty, lost and defeated look in his eyes.  
No matter how tight a situation had been in the past, no matter what he had been put through, apparentely nothing was able to break Daryl Dixon’s spirit. The fire in his eyes was always burning, his fighting spirit and courage never failed. He may have stumbled now and then, but he never fell.  
Now it appears as though he has given up the fight, as though he lost every _reason_ to fight. 

I should have been there! It wasn’t just the guilt he felt for Denise’s death alone that had him snap. It was you, Rick Grimes! Your thoughtlessness and neglect in addition to all that happened gave him that one cruel shove that sent him over the edge.  
He needed you, still does, but you didn’t even pay attention to him anymore. After all he’s done for you, after all he’s _been_ to you, you turned away and centered your attention on Michonne.  
You should have known better than that, Grimes. You know damn well just how much he means to you. And now there may never be a chance to let him know. Any moment now either one of us could die and this hurt, this uncertainty, this gap will divide us for all times. I can hardly bear that thought. 

Maggie said she believed in me and even when she said it, I knew she was putting her trust into the wrong man. I tried. I really tried for the longest time, but at one point I lost my way. I became careless and boastful and paid attention basically only to what Rick Grimes needed and wanted.  
And even that I got all wrong. 

_Daryl! Look at me! Please, look at me!_

But he doesn’t. He’s probably done trying to draw my attention. He’s probably implored me silently the same way countless times over the past weeks … months, but I just wouldn’t see him any longer.  
My heart is breaking at the thought that this one short, pained glance may have been the last time I ever got to look into his eyes.

_I still love you, even though you do not._

I can’t stand the thought that those were the last words his soul communicated with mine. 

Negan may know that it was him who blew up his men with the rocket launcher the other day. Maybe Dwight had one or the other thing to tell about him as well and I doubt he would talk about the _good_ things. Any second now Negan could pick Daryl.  
My Daryl. I know there are tears pooling in my eyes now when I acknowledge that thought. My Daryl. And he’s gonna die thinking I don’t care, that I don’t love him anymore.

_You are wrong! Hear me! Please._

I need to tell him. Need to apologize. Need to make it up to him, but there may never be a chance. 

It’s the last day on Earth for one of us. Maybe him, maybe me, maybe one of the others, but whoever it is – a member of my family will die any minute now, without getting to say all the things they still had to say or do the things left undone. 

Negan has started his sick and perverted game of eenie meenie miney mo. He gave order to cut Carl’s eye out and feed it to me, if anyone dared move or say a word, so it probably won’t be my son he’s gonna pick.  
He is out to break me, to humiliate me, show how entirely worthless and weak a leader I am, unable to protect his people, and I wouldn’t even disagree. He won’t spare me this, so I doubt he will pick me, either. Killing me would be too light a punishment and too little a victory. He wants me on my knees permanently, fawning upon him, while I have to live with all this pain and guilt on my conscience. 

He keeps walking. Eugene, Carl, Aaron, Sasha. Then he passes me and moves over to the people on my right. Maggie, Abraham, Michonne, Daryl, Rosita, Glenn.

This is my last day on Earth, one way or the other. I won’t come back from this. I’m dead already although my heart is still beating, painfully, violently, as though it meant to break out of my too tight chest.  
I can’t even watch, keep staring ahead of me. I just don’t dare look when he makes his pick, stops and says “You. Are. _It_.”  
It’s not Maggie. She’s right by my side and I would see him out of the corner of my eye, if he had stopped there. Someone further over to the right. Michonne is there. And Glenn. – And Daryl.

I close my eyes, even squeeze them shut tightly, while the sound of my own frantic heartbeat roars inside of my head. Unfortunately not loudly enough to blind out the sounds that follow.

Wham!

I hear a sickening thud and various voices screaming around me. And at the same moment I feel a part of my soul chip off and crumble. 

_No!_

“Wow, taking it like a champ!” I hear Negan say, gloating.

Wham!

Another blow. The first tear runs down my cheek, while my mind displays the most horrible pictures in my mind’s eye. Long dark hair, straight, curly, white skin, black skin, blue eyes, brown eyes … Is it one of them? 

With each merciless blow another part of my soul crumbles to ashes. The sound is horrifying. The impact has the skull break, blood and probably cerebral matter gush out and splash on the ground, as well as the unfortunate witnesses nearby. 

Michonne. I try to picture her face, her smile, but no matter how hard I try, the only thing in my mind’s eye is a pair of shadow blue eyes. Eyes I haven’t seen shine in a long time – actually, I didn’t take the time to look into them for longer at all lately.  
I wish I had. Whenever I had lost the way, they had told me silently yes or no, left or right. They reassured me, eased the pain, emitted strength and courage. And often enough there was the glimpse of something more – something honest and genuine and very special. An emotion that ran deep and had those eyes shine – for me.  
Daryl used to look at me in a way no one else ever had – not Lori, not Jessie and not Michonne, either.  
Is that why I turned away? Was I scared?  
Whatever the reason, it was stupid! It was wrong. It was cruel. And I may never get another chance to put it right. 

Wham!

Another blow and I don’t even dare picture what that monster is still bashing at. Whoever this is … was, must have died several blows ago. Gone.  
All dreams and hopes, plans, ideas and emotions that were one of a kind – lost. Whatever was left unspoken will never be said, will never be heard. No second chance.

You never know what you got till it’s gone. 

A terrible burning sensation in my chest has me realize that I’ve been holding my breath for way too long, almost choking on my fear, my guilt, my tears. Breathe! Just breathe!

Wham!

Let him stop. Please, just let this be over.

As though my silent pleas have actually reached Negan’s ears, the merciless blows stop and it goes silent. Too silent. I would have expected sobs, moans, gasps, screams, but there is no sound.  
Everybody is unable to move, to breathe, to think straight, to comprehend what just happened. The entire group is frozen in shock. I know exactly how they feel.

“Rick”, I hear Negan’s gloating voice, “now this is disappointing. Here I try to make this entertaining and you’re not even watching? Guess I’ll have to do it over again then.”

“NO!”

My heart almost stops, while my eyes fly open.

He’s standing right in front of me. The baseball bat, his shoes and the legs of his pants are covered in blood and my stomach turns instantly. I can’t help heaving, while frantically trying to get a grip, to display some kind of strength – not to stand up to Negan, but for _them_. 

Negan just grins.

“Guess you got the message. And later we’ll talk about what you and your people are going to do for me from now on. For now you can all do that sappy hugging, crying and glaring daggers my way thing.”

He starts laughing.

“Every group does that and it’s hilarious to watch.”

I can’t help staring at him for a moment. Is that even still a human being?  
The next moment my heartbeat accelerates once more as my group comes out of its state of shock and the sobs, moans and screams start, hitting my ears like gunfire.

_Your fault. Your fault. Your fault._

I can’t move. Can’t turn my head. Can’t look over to … I don’t even dare meet anyone’s eyes, for I’m certain to see the unspoken accusation in all of them. So I opt for just staring ahead of myself, but my attempt to blind out what’s going on around me fails miserably. 

There is a movement to my right and I hear Maggie start to cry hysterically. The next second she is being pulled into somebody’s arms and held tight.

“Sssshh, I’m here.”

Glenn’s voice. Thank God.

A tall figure in heavy boots comes to stand slightly to my left, then pulls Sasha to her feet and embraces her – Abraham. I notice Rosita standing there behind him, looking lost and shaking like aspen leaf. In the next moment Eugene and Aaron are on either side of her, getting entangled in an odd, yet heartwarming triple-hug. 

My pulse rate is frantic by now, while panic is rising inside of me. 

_No! No! No!_

Almost all of them have showed up within my sight, while I still keep avoiding a glance to my right. It’s obvious now: No sense in denying it any longer. It’s one of them. Either Daryl or Michonne. They are the only two I haven’t seen yet.

_Oh God, not both of them!?_

Can’t breathe. A cold hand seems to grab my throat and chokes me. I look over to Carl. His face is as white as a sheet and the traces of tears are visible on his cheek.  
He casts one quick glance my way, then slightly shakes his head, telling me to stay clear of him.  
Maybe he just needs times. Maybe he needs a moment to compose himself. Or is he blaming me? Does he think this is on me, the way he has done after we lost the prison? Have I lost him for good now, _too_?

I close my eyes once more. Maybe when I open them again, I’ll wake from this nightmare and it will all be over. It never happened. I can try again and do better next time. No one died because of me. Everything will be alright.  
Who am I trying to fool? Nothing will be alright – it will never be again.

The next moment a gentle hand comes to rest on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but I can’t bring myself to look anyone in the eyes. 

_Go away. I don’t deserve your comfort. And I don’t want any pity, either._

“I’m really sorry.”

My eyes are open in a split second and I find myself looking straight into a very familiar and beloved face.

Michonne. 

Oh God, it was her. 

Daryl’s blue eyes are glassy, while he seems to struggle to keep them open at all. He breathes fitfully and is obviously in pain, slightly swaying while he crouches in front of me. The hand on my shoulder is way too hot and the fever has brought a thin layer of sweat to his deadly pale face, but he keeps eye contact without blinking. He looks just as bad as Maggie does and yet at the same time he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

With a choked sob I pull him into my arms. I feel his entire body go tense for a moment, but then he relaxes and leans into me, while he wraps his left arm around me to return the embrace. He is injured.  
There has been a time I would have sworn bloody revenge for all this – for Michonne’s death, for Daryl’s injury, for scaring my people witless, but I can’t find that fighting spirit within me anymore. That attitude has gotten us into this situation in the first place. That _other time_ has only been this morning and now, before this day ends, we have lost one of our family and who knows what other price there is yet to be paid.  
And not just due to whatever Negan and his men are going to do to us in the future, but due to what they have already done.  
I know I am not the same man I was this morning. And taking one or the other secret look at my group behind Daryl’s back, I can tell they are not the same people they were only this morning, either. This has cost us already. There are wounds that run deep and some of them may never heal. 

I can’t help the shiver that runs through my body and instantly Daryl’s hug even tightens. Despite my best intentions to display strength, tears are streaming down my cheeks all of a sudden and I start sobbing like a baby, while Daryl runs his hands soothingly over my back.

“I’m so sorry, Rick.”

I cannot answer him. Cannot put into words what I’m feeling right now.  
This has been, without a doubt, the most terrifying day of my entire life. I was shattered when I woke up in the hospital back then and was faced with a world that had turned to hell. I was shattered when I was forced to kill the man who’d been my best friend ever since we were kids. I was shattered when my wife, the mother of my children died. But this day exceeded it all. This time my entire family was faced with a lethal threat and has been put through the worst psycho terror I’ve ever encountered. And I _am_ blaming myself for this.  
Yet, right now I don’t feel that guilt. I don’t feel rage or fear, not remorse or frustration. I feel shame. And sorrow. 

Michonne was a wonderful woman. She was strong, independent and proud. Did I love her? I cannot even tell for sure, but I did like her a lot, that’s for sure, and she did have her charms. I’m not sure about her feelings for me and now I will never know. But it’s not her death that makes me want to cry. 

“No, _I_ am sorry”, I finally choke out, while I bury my face on Daryl’s shoulder.

He thinks I’m crying over her, while in fact _he_ is the reason for my tears. I must have hurt him so bad. I cannot even imagine how he must have felt being pushed away like this, having to watch me with Michonne, having everything he loved taken away from him. When he needed me the most, I wasn’t there for him. Yet now, right here, although he barely has the strength to stay conscious at all, he never hesitated to offer all he still has to give. To me. He could have stayed where he was. He could have offered his support and comfort to anyone else. But he came to me. Despite everything I’ve done.

_I don’t deserve you, Daryl Dixon._

I will tell him just that. Later. There is so much I need to tell him. So many things left unsaid that I urgently have to let him know. I won’t deceive myself ever again – I am not the king of the world, I am not invincible and I am not immortal. A day like this may come again and when it does, when next it may be my turn, I want everything said that needs to be said, everything done that needs to be done. The day I die, although I hope that day is far, I want Daryl to know just how sorry I am for what I’ve put him through, how much he means to me – how much I love him. 

Everything happens for a reason. Even a day like this. It had me come to my senses, get off my high horse and acknowledge that there is an enemy out here I best not underestimate. And I won’t ever again. Yet at the same time I first had to lose one wonderful and important person in my life to finally deeply appreciate another one.  
And I’ve got the feeling that this, in fact, may be the best thing that ever happened to me.  
Negan doesn’t have a clue, but he is far from breaking me. On the contrary. I came stronger out of this than I was before. And I’ve gained more than I lost.  
I’ve learned my lesson. Maybe the same lesson Negan still has to learn. And he will. On his last day on Earth.


End file.
